The Magic of Being A Spy
by Ravendor Gryffinclaw
Summary: Eragon leaves Alagaesia after Galbatorix is disposed of. He goes to the elves ancestral home with Arya. Will he succeed in his mission to kill Yassen Gregorovich? What will he do afterwords? Inheritance Cycle, Alex Rider crossover. T for language. Review!
1. Prologue

Author's note: This is my first attempt at a crossover fiction. It's kind of clumsy, and short, I know, but you can't blame me for trying. Besides I'll be adding more chapters which will be longer than this. Please review.

**Disclaimer: AS MUCH AS I WOULD LIKE TO I DO NOT OWN THE INHERITANCE CYCLE OR THE ALEX RIDER SERIES! NOR WILL I EVER! IF I DID I WOULDN'T BE WRITING FANFICTION!**

* * *

**Prologue**

Eragon was flying home. The war with Galbatorix was over, and won. But Eragon had felt the loss. He had seen far to many of his friends die in battle. Oromis, Brom, Islanzadí, Blödhgarm, Murtagh, Ajihad, Orik, he had been a wreck after the final battle. Murtagh had thrown himself in front of Galbatorix's blade to save Eragon, leaving Galbatorix so surprised that Eragon had been able to behead him. Murtagh had died in his arms smiling as he said, "I have finally changed my true name." before passing into the void.

Alagaesia had lost its beauty to Eragon, so he had left. He had traveled across the ocean to the west, and arrived at the elves ancestral home. Humans now inhabited the isles, and they had somehow learned of his adventures in Alagaesia. They must have very powerful spell casters indeed, to have seen his exploits so accurately from such a great distance. Though Eragon was puzzled in regard to how they were able to scry him, as he had either fought beside or killed every human spell caster capable of such a spell.

Since everyone had deemed him crazy when he introduced himself as Eragon Bromsson he had changed his name.

Eragon sighed as he slipped off of Saphira and walked into his home. He hardly ever got the chance to fly; these people did not take kindly to dragons over their rooftops. Saphira was only able to stay close because of how much land he had bought near the capital of this country.

_Good night little one._ said Saphira, _Sleep well._

"And you." he replied before walking inside.

"How was your flight?" asked a sweet melodic voice.

Eragon turned and smiled. The sight of Arya never failed to cheer him up.

"All too short," he said kissing her, "But being with you has made me see the good in that."

Arya laughed lightly.

"I wish I could fly with you still." she said wistfully.

"I still don't see why you can't." replied Eragon, "Saphira will take it slow with you. There is nothing to worry about."

Arya looked up into his eyes then took his hand and placed it on her swollen belly.

"There is always something to worry about," she said softly, "I would trust Saphira with my life, and I have done so numerous times, but it is something else again when you are trusting someone with your child. And you know her. She can be… exuberant."

Eragon smiled, his eyes lovingly taking in Arya as if she might drift into nothingness at any moment.

"That she can be." said Eragon, "We still need a name."

"It's a little late to think about that tonight," said Arya, "And you need to be into work early tomorrow remember?"

"Unfortunately." said Eragon with a grimace.

Arya smiled at him.

"Come Mr. _Rider_," she said, "You need your sleep."

"Very well _Jane Rider," _he said mischievously, they both hated being called by their taken names, "Only if you promise not to call me _Alex_ in your dreams."

_**Summary in case you weren't paying attention and/or can't piece anything together: **_The Isles are the United Kingdom. The Elven ancestral country is England. Eragon is Alex Rider. Arya is his pregnant wife Jane. Eragon/Alex is a spy.

_

* * *

_

Author's Note: Told you it was short. But its a prologue so its supposed to be that way.


	2. The New Guy

A/N: Chapter One coming your way. Please review. Any feedback can be helpful. I'm willing to listen.

* * *

**The New Guy**

Bryce Jamison walked into the MI-6 building for his first day on the job. An elevator ride up to the top floor brought him in front of Alan Blunt's office. After seven years at MI5, Jamison had been transferred to MI-6 by special request of Blunt. Day one and he already was being sent out on a mission. The balding thirty-two year old walked into Blunt's office, his piercing blue eyes taking in an argument with a volume that suggested that it should have taken place in the House of Commons.

"You can't do this to me!" yelled Eragon; "I've been a desk jockey for under three months! And now you want to ship me off on a mission? Standard operating says two years!"

"Well you've been moved ahead early," he said matter-of-factly, then snapped, "And don't talk back." He looked down at his desk and quickly recomposed himself, "Need I remind you what you owe this country?"

"Need I remind you what I can do to you?" whispered Eragon in a dangerous voice.

"What would be your provocation?" asked Blunt in a self-confident tone, "That you are scared of doing your job?"

"My wife is pregnant you bastard!" screamed Eragon, a note of fear clear in his voice, "And you want to send me after one of the most dangerous assassins in the world? I don't know about what you would do in my place, but I'd rather not risk leaving my wife and unborn child alone, thank you very much!"

"This isn't a choice Mr. Rider." stated Blunt bluntly, "And you may be able to kill me but there are a slew of other agents in this building, and…" Blunt's voice dropped to the barest of whispers, "Within striking distance of your house."

Eragon paled at this. He sat down hard in one of the hard wood chairs in Blunt's office, his head in his hands. Bryce coughed slightly. Eragon jumped out of his chair and spun around. Bryce thought he could see his hand glowing.

"Ah," said Blunt, "Mr. Jamison I presume."

"Yes sir."

"Very good, sit down."

Bryce was barely able to fit his muscular frame into the cramped chair designated to him by Blunt. By habit Bryce took in every possible way of escape and every item that could be used as a weapon. If his years in the field had taught him anything at all it was that any situation could be a trap. A window leading to a sixteen-story drop onto the unforgiving pavement below, and a door leading to the offices of more spies. Not a grand situation if this was a trap, but then, no traps were.

"I assume you are aware of why you are here Mr. Jamison?" asked Blunt searching for the correct file among the filing cabinets that lined the back of the room.

"It's because he's a heartless bastard who wouldn't know emotion if it threw him out a window." muttered Eragon under his breath.

Blunt let the comment pass and retrieved his file.

"No, sir. I was not informed as to the nature of the matter requiring my presence, sir." Bryce said stiffly.

"That is a very professional tone you're taking Mr. Jamison," said Blunt, "I like that. Now as you may have gathered from my… conversation… with Mr. Rider, you will be partaking in a sting operation against _this_ man."

From within the file Blunt pulled out a photo of a man who appeared to be in his late twenties. He had close-cropped blond hair and hard blue eyes.

"This is Yassen Gregorovich," said Blunt, "He is a professional assassin. His only real allegiance is to himself. He is responsible for the deaths of numerous members of MI-6, MI-5, the CIA, the FBI, the US Treasury, the Swiss Agency for Special Tasks, the BND, the GRU, and probably members of half a dozen others we don't know about yet. You two are being sent out to take him out."

"If he's that eager to knock us off why haven't you gone after him before?" asked Eragon icily.

"We have," said Blunt quietly, "Numerous times. Each time he has killed our operative and sent us… a souvenir."

"Heads?" asked Bryce.

"Trigger fingers."

Bryce grimaced. The one part of the job he never got used to was the relish with which some of the people he was sent out against carried out their acts of useless violence. Eragon did not respond to this. He had seen far worse in Alagaesia some of his friends had no bodies left to speak of. Orik had been burned alive and reduced to a cinder by Shruikan's flames, magically enhanced as they were by Galbatorix.

Blunt took out another photo. It was of a two-story house in a snow-covered city. A large chain link fence surrounded the property and guard stations were on both sides of both the front and back openings. Each guard pictured carried an M-16.

"This house is located in the mountain outskirts of Belgrade," said Blunt, "We have learned that Gregorovich will be staying there for a week. You will be shipping out first thing tomorrow morning so you have the largest window of opportunity."

"And how, pray tell," said Eragon, seething in his chair, "Are we to carry out this assassination?"

"That is for you two to figure out."

"What?" yelled Eragon jumping out of his chair, "You propose to send us into Serbia to kill one of the world's best assassins with our entire store of information being a photo of him and his house along with the knowledge that if we fail our target will send our families the finger we _would_ have killed him with? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," said Blunt, rising out of his chair, and bellowed "Now get down to Smithers for your equipment!" Then he stated icily, "Good day gentlemen." and turned his back to them.

Blunt went back to sorting through his files. Bryce made his way to the door. Just as his hand touched the doorknob he heard Eragon speak in a deathly whisper.

"No."

Bryce turned around to see Eragon leaning over Blunt's desk, he swore he saw Eragon's palm glowing again.

"We deserve better than this," said Eragon, his voice reaching a level of frigidity usually associated with the vacuum of space, "You cannot send us halfcocked to Serbia with a few pictures. We need to know how many men are guarding the house, what the weaponry is like, when they change guards, when Gregorovich will actually _be there. _Otherwise you are sending us to our deaths."

Blunt didn't respond. He merely picked up his phone, dialed a number, and turned the speaker on. After two rings the other party picked up.

"_Crawley here."_ said the voice on the other end.

"John could you tell me where you are in relation to your surroundings, and who and what is around you?" asked Blunt.

"_Status update. Right then," _said Crawley, "_We have twenty armed men here all carrying enough ammunition and explosives to bring down the _entire _London police force. We are in a fortified underground bunker looking out on an open field with a narrow creek twisting through the middle. We are approximately one hundred meters from Alex Rider's property and…"_

Eragon's face paled as he heard this and he grabbed the edge of Blunt's desk for support. Blunt looked at him and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Eragon nodded and walked towards the door.

"Thank you Crawley," said Blunt.

Blunt hung up as Eragon walked dejectedly out of the room. Bryce was about to follow, but then he stopped and turned in the doorway. Blunt continued sorting through his files for a minute then looked up.

"What is it Jamison?" he asked.

"Sir forgive me," said Bryce, "But with all… due respect…"

He stopped, searching for the right words. Upon realizing he couldn't think of any to express what he wanted to say he merely shrugged, then did the only unprofessional thing he had ever done in his seven-year tenure. He lifted his right hand, and flipped off Alan Blunt. Blunt was so shocked that he didn't respond, even as Bryce slammed the door.

Bryce caught up with Eragon at the elevator.

"Hey Alex right?" he said.

Eragon grunted noncommittally.

"Well listen I just want you to know I'm on your side." continued Bryce, "Blunt is a jackass and he left us totally unprepared and you in the worst spot imaginable."

Eragon smiled lightly.

"Thanks." he said quietly, twisting his wedding ring. He had enchanted his and Arya's rings the same way he had Roran and Katrina's. Arya would know immediately if anything happened to him.

It was nice to know that someone was on his side. Eragon and Bryce entered the elevator and proceeded to Smithers' office on the eleventh floor. As they entered, an enormously fat, bald man greeted them; his black mustache perched on top of a large grin.

"Well Alex," he said clapping Eragon on the shoulder, "To what do I owe this pleasure? And who are you?" he asked Bryce.

"This is Bryce Jamison," responded Eragon, "And it isn't a pleasure. Blunt is sending us out against Yassen Gregorovich."

Smithers immediately lost his grin.

"Wait… back up…" he said slowly, "Alan Blunt… is sending… _you… _against Yassen Gregorovich?"

Eragon nodded solemnly.

"Shit!" shouted a furious Smithers, "A guy that just started and my best friend who has been staffing a desk for an eighth of how long he should have been versus the world's deadliest assassin! Why don't we make you two glow while we're at it!"

Smithers went to the back of the room and retrieved a midsized steel case and set it on his desk in front of Eragon and Bryce.

"Good thing I did one of my best jobs on these." said Smithers with a knowing wink.

He opened the case and pulled out a Kindle reading device.

"There are five books on here," said Smithers, "Upon opening each one has a different function. The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy works as a GPS system. The Search for Red October works as a x-ray device. The Da Vinci Code is a code-breaking program. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes allows you to communicate with MI6 if you need to. And The Two Towers causes the device to explode at a time that you set upon opening the book. Careful though, there's enough explosives in here to take out a room and all the occupants of said room."

Smithers handed the device to Eragon and pulled out a bottle of spray deodorant and a metal plate.

"This stuff is extremely corrosive." said Smithers.

He gently sprayed a small amount of the substance onto the metal. Within twenty seconds there was a gaping hole. Smithers capped the can and tossed it to Bryce and dived back into the box.

"Here we have cell phones," said Smithers holding up a pair of identical phones, "But not just any ordinary phone," he continued flipping them to Eragon and Bryce, "Oh no. If you punch in 007 off, a stiletto blade slides out of the top. Also if you throw them against something hard enough you get a smoke screen for your trouble. And they work fine as well."

"Double-O seven?" asked Eragon raising an eyebrow, "Perhaps a bit obvious eh, Smithers?"

"Just a tad." said Smithers

The last thing Smithers pulled out of the box was a bottle of soap.

"Now you'll have to provide a turning mechanism your self," said Smithers, "But when you squirt this soap into a key hole it will fit the lock and harden quickly. You'll have to insert your turning mechanism before this happens obviously."

He handed Eragon the soap and closed the case.

"That's it except for your guns," he said, "But you already have those."

Eragon nodded, he had a one hundred percent composite, nine-millimeter baretta tucked in his coat pocket. Not even the casings were metal. He then proceeded to leave the room. He exited the building and drove home.

* * *

"Oh hello Eragon," said a confused Arya, "You're home really early."

Then she noticed the look on his face. She rushed to him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He held her for a while, then broke down. Arya guided him to their couch.

_Little one what happened? _asked Saphira poking her head though a specially made door.

Eragon attempted to compose himself.

"Eragon," said Arya softly, "We can't help you until we know what's wrong."

Eragon told her exactly what had happened in Blunt's office. Arya turned extremely pale upon hearing about the operatives stationed so close to their home. She put a hand to her belly and looked at it as silent tears ran down her face.

"We have to move, now." she said.

"They'll kill us as soon as they realize what we're doing," replied Eragon sadly.

"Then what are we going to do?" asked Arya desperately, "I can't live without you Eragon. What if you die? Our child will never now its father."

_I shall kill all of them! _said an enraged Saphira, _I'll roast them alive! I'll tear them limb from limb! They will wish they had never been born!_

"No Saphira," said Eragon, "They will shoot you down, we aren't in Alagaesia anymore."

"Perhaps we should be." said Arya quietly. She got up and left the room.

"Arya…" started Eragon.

_Let her go Eragon._ said Saphira, _She is right. And you know it, we do belong there._

Eragon put his head in his hands. Arya and Saphira were right. Alagaesia was their home. They had all been born there, and his child had been conceived there. Maybe, just maybe, when this was all over they would return there. It would be nice to see how Roran was progressing with his dragon, Krayneidor, and if any of Saphira's eggs had hatched for new riders yet. They had left shortly after Saphira had laid the eggs, Krayneidor was the father.

"_Yes," _thought Eragon, "_When this is over we will return to Alagaesia."_

Saphira hummed in content upon hearing this, and she and Eragon slowly drifted off to a fitful sleep.

* * *

A/N: FYI I know that there might be some plot flaws. Let's attribute that to my lack of experience and the fact that it's a crossover. But please, by all means point them out to me and I'll try to fix them as best as I can. Thanks for reading. **NOW REVIEW!! **Come on, please? Just tell me if you liked it or not.


	3. Belgrade: Day One

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Em Phantom as she is the only person who has shown interest in this story.

**Belgrade: Day One**

Eragon stepped off of the 747 that had taken him from London to Belgrade. The plane that had taken him from Arya. The plane that had carved a piece of pureness from his heart and replaced it with black anger towards Blunt, and a gray worry that threatened to consume him. Eragon was staring at the ground as he walked quickly out of the Nikola Tesla airport, his black trench coat flowing behind him in the harsh wind as Bryce ran to catch up with him.

"Такси!" yelled Eragon in perfect Serbian. His mastery of the ancient language had enabled him to create a spell that allowed him to speak any language at will.

A small yellow cab pulled up beside Eragon and Bryce. They placed the meager amount of luggage that they had brought in the trunk and climbed in.

"Узмите нас за Булевар војводе Мишића тридесет седам и тридесет девет." said Eragon.

The driver nodded and started off. Bryce looked at Eragon, a confused look creasing his forehead and plastering a slight frown on his face.

"What did you tell him?" asked Bryce.

"I told him to take us to Duke Boulevard Misica thirty-seven to thirty-nine," replied Eragon indifferently, "That's where Blunt's decided to put us. Three hotels just as close to where we need to go and he decides to put us in the cheapest one."

Eragon pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Bryce. It was the receipt to the hotel. Blunt had booked them a double room on the second of four floors, level with Gregorovich's top floor. This was an advantage because it gave them a good angle to see what was happening on the grounds and also allowed them to see into the second floor, which was most likely where Gregorovich slept. If they found out where he slept, it would be that much easier to take him out. They could simply shoot him while he slept.

After a while they pulled up at the Hostel Fair. Eragon paid the driver and stepped out into the now very wet Serbian afternoon. As he and Bryce ran for the door of the hotel Eragon noticed Gregorovich's house. It was almost immediately across the street from the Hostel Fair. Even in the pouring rain there were four armed guards. Eragon noticed one of them looking at him, so he followed Bryce inside.

Eragon handed the receptionist the receipt and he and Bryce signed in. They went into there separate rooms and opened the dividing one. Eragon took off his trench coat and went into Bryce's room as it had a better view of Gregorovich's house.

"All right then," said Bryce glancing at his watch, "I propose we take the rest of today off seeing as it's already five o'clock and nothing much is going to happen when its pouring like this. I'll order pizza or something…"

"No." cut in Eragon.

Bryce started, suddenly wary. The last time he'd heard that tone was when Blunt had given them the mission.

"Alex, why not?" Bryce asked slowly, "Nobody in their right mind we be out tonight. Besides we've got a whole week. You need to relax a little bit more Alex."

"I'll relax when I'm back home with my wife!" barked Eragon, "You can slack off if you want, but I plan to get this done as quickly as possible and return to England ASAP as well!"

Bryce backed away slowly as Eragon yanked out a pair of binoculars, a pen, and a journal from his suitcase. Eragon sat down and peered over at the metal gate of forty Duke Boulevard Misica. The mountain Kosmaj was not to far away, and over to the east and slightly more distant was Avala. The rain was coming down harder now, and the guards were very obviously miserable.

Bryce shook his head and looked in the phone book for someplace to eat. He decided to go to Na Cosku, a place with both Italian and Yugoslavian cuisine, with a decent amount of seafood. He called the lobby and had them book him a cab. Then he went out.

* * *

Bryce walked into Na Cosku, and found himself in a cozy place on the small side. He looked for a corner booth, as this would reduce the amount of ways people could come at him, but found them all occupied. He therefore sat immediately next to one of the corner booths, which was occupied by two men in deep conversation. Bryce very nearly did a double take, but was held in check by his years of professionalism. Sitting not ten feet away from Bryce, was _Yassen Gregorovich. _

Bryce sat down stiffly and quickly ordered black coffee and stuffed peppers. He then settled down and did his best to eavesdrop on the conversation next to him. Luckily both men were speaking English.

"No, no, no." said Gregorovich, "The _starting _fee is a million euros."

"What do you mean the starting fee?" asked the other man.

"A million, plus expenses and whatever I deem proper compensation for injuries to myself and my men. And up to ten percent extra depending how well it all goes off."

Bryce's food arrived and he hastily paid in advance. He wanted to be able to follow Gregorovich out as soon as possible if the need should arise. He started to eat and continued to listen attentively.

"The question is, can you do it?" asked the other man.

"Of course," responded Gregorovich, a slight Russian accent creeping into his speech, "A MI-6 operative who's only been in the system three months? Easiest thing in the world. My question is, why do you want him taken out?"

"He has only been in the country for three months," responded the other man, his voice becoming the barest of whispers, "Yet Blunt still picked him up. Rider must have something very useful to them indeed, and anything of use to them is a hindrance to us."

Bryce nearly choked on his coffee. They were going to take out _Alex_?

"Very well," said Gregorovich standing up suddenly, "I shall start this assignment in a week. As for right now I am on vacation. Good night."

Gregorovich walked out of the restaurant. To avoid suspicion Bryce waited a minute, and then followed. He hailed a taxi and followed Gregorovich's car. It went straight to Gregorovich's home.

Gregorovich went past his guards and into his house, and Bryce went up to his room in the Hostel Fair. As he entered he saw Eragon in exactly the same position he had left him in.

"Alex I've got some rather disturbing information," started Bryce, "You see it appears that…"

"Quiet!" growled Eragon, "Gregorovich is home"

"I know," said Bryce impatiently, "I followed him back from the place I ate at. Listen Alex…"

"The guards changed and doubled at six o'clock." said Eragon stiffly.

"OK fine whatever," replied a now very agitated Bryce, "Gregorovich got a new contract and it's against…"

"Top floor, facing us, left most room."

Bryce blinked slowly.

"What?" he asked.

"That's where Gregorovich's room is." responded Eragon, "Now, what was it you were saying?"

"Gregorovich's new contract is against you!" said Bryce very quickly.

Eragon turned his head slowly to look at Bryce.

"Why?"

The one word question conveyed confusion, fear, and anger all at once. Bryce quickly relayed what he had over heard at Na Cosku, and then asked, "Is it true that you've only been in England for a few months?"

"Yes."

His tone made it clear that he would not elaborate further so Bryce let it drop. He grabbed his own binoculars and joined Eragon on his silent vigil.

At midnight Eragon's journal read thus:

**_6 o'clock: Guards change and double_**

**_6:30: Gregorovich arrived home, ate at Na Cosku, room on top floor facing us, left most room_**

**_9 o'clock: Guards change._**

**_10 o'clock: Light in Gregorovich's room goes off_**

**_Midnight: Guards change_**

And so concluded Day One in Belgrade.


	4. The Plan

A/N: OK updates have started to slow down since Winter Break is over and I've got finals coming up. Although if enough people beg I'll try really hard to get the next chapter written quickly.

**The Plan**

_**3 o'clock: Guards change**_

_**6 o'clock: Guards change and reduce from eight back to four**_

_**6:15: Light goes on in Gregorovich's room**_

_**9 o'clock guards change**_

_**9:30: Gregorovich exits his house**_

"All right Bryce," yelled Eragon, "Up and at 'em!"

Bryce jerked awake and sprang out of bed into a fighting stance. He never traveled well enough to wake up at his English time. He groaned slightly and pulled on pair of jeans Eragon had thrown at him over his boxers.

"Gregorovich just left his house."

Eragon pulled on his trench coat and left the room, tucking his gun and the cell phone Smithers had given him into his inside pocket. Bryce quickly pulled on a jacket and glanced at Eragon's journal.

"Alex you stayed up all night watching Gregorovich's house?" asked Bryce stifling a yawn, "Aren't you tired?"

"No," said Eragon truthfully. He had used Aren to replenish his strength during the night. "You wouldn't be either if you hadn't watched the Red Star Belgrade game last night."

Bryce grumbled incoherently and stumbled after Eragon as he walked briskly out of the hotel. As they exited the building they saw Gregorovich strolling through his gates and the four guards standing stiffly. A car pulled up in front of Eragon and Bryce. A tall man exited it and walked towards Eragon as Gregorovich's car pulled up in front of him.

"Mr. Alex Rider?" he asked.

"Yes," responded Eragon quickly, "Thank you for delivering the car. Here is your check."

The man nodded and accepted the check. He had Eragon sign a form, and then he hailed a taxi and disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. Eragon twirled a key in his hand and watched as Gregorovich climbed into his car.

"Here's the plan," said Eragon, "You talk to the guards. Gain their confidence; find out what you can about Gregorovich. I'll tail him in this car I just rented and we'll reconvene at ten o'clock tonight-pending emergency phone calls from each other. Got it?"

"Now just a minute," said Bryce quickly, "What makes you think you're in charge here? I have seven years more experience than you Alex."

"Yes and you showed how much that benefited you last night," said Eragon, his voice laced with venomous sarcasm as he climbed into the car, "Tell me, did Vladimir Petrović's tactics include how to kill a Russian assassin?"

Bryce couldn't respond to this. Eragon started the car and took off after Gregorovich at a leisurely pace to avoid arising suspicion. Bryce went back into the hotel and ate breakfast. He changed and went off to meet Gregorovich's guards.

A/N: Short and kind of cliffy I know. But I did want to get something on here. I'm going to be pretty busy the next two weeks or so and as such I won't be getting any updates on for a while. If you're really desperate review and tell me. I can always use more motivation.


	5. Reconnaissance: Part One

A/N: Woohoo! I'm writing again! Finals were over on Friday, but then I was sick yesterday. SO, here's a quick update. I kind of feel bad I didn't do more, but hey, something is better than nothing right?

* * *

**Reconnaissance: Part One**

"So what did you fellows think of the Red Star game last night?" Bryce asked the guards as he walked up to them.

An earnest conversation followed and Bryce very animatedly talked with the men. The conversation ranged from possible additions for next season, to the development of some of the younger players, to the tactics used by Vladimir Petrović.

"That late tactic change almost cost us the game," said one guard, "Don't know what the hell he was thinking."

"You're right there Nebojsa," said another guard, "You don't change tactics midseason usually, much less mid-game."

"Quite right Pavle," said Nebojsa, "I doubt he'll be around for next season."

"Yeah," said Pavle, "Especially if Gregorovich gets his way."

"How's that?" asked Bryce as he lit a cigarette and passed the pack around.

"Our boss, Yassen Gregorovich," said Pavle as he took a cigarette, "He's trying to buy Red Star."

"Really?" asked Bryce raising an eyebrow, "How's that coming along?"

"Not so good," responded Pavle, "They owners are hesitant to sell Red Star to just one person. Gregorovich is in meetings from ten till six. He only takes an hour break at noon for lunch at the Kristal Restaurant, and that's only because the current owners make him. You see…"

"Curb your tongue Pavle!" bellowed Nebojsa, "Or I shall cut it out!"

"What, what did I do?" asked Pavle.

"You are giving away far too much information!" responded Nebojsa, "You are putting us all in danger!"

"Oh come off it!" responded Pavle, "You don't really think that _this_," pointed at Bryce, "Englishman could really be a threat to us?"

Bryce frowned and threw his cigarette into the street.

"It doesn't matter!" yelled Nebojsa, "Remember what he did to Nada?"

"Don't you ever mention what he did to my daughter again!" screamed Pavle as his face paled.

Bryce took a step back. Pavle was in a state that suggested he could kill with his bare hands with ease.

"It needed to be mentioned," said Nebojsa, "You would have gotten us all killed."

Nebojsa turned to Bryce as Pavle slumped against the fence and took a plastic ball out from his coat pocket.

"Get out of here." growled Nebojsa.

Bryce shrugged and started to walk away as Pavle threw the ball back and forth between his hands.

"Eleven hundred RSD says I can place it in his jacket pocket without him noticing." said Pavle in forlorn Serbian.

The other guards nodded and took out their wallets. Pavle lined up his shot, jumped, and flicked his wrist. The ball landed perfectly in Bryce's left jacket pocket. Pavle took his grumbling coworkers money, and leaned against the fence as he pulled his cap over his eyes.

* * *

A/N: OK so RSD is the abbreviation for the Serbian Dinar, the currency of Serbia. 1100 Dinar is a little over twenty dollars, and yes, Nebojsa, Pavle, and Nada are all real Serbian names.


	6. Reconnaissance: Part Two

A/N: I've started writing again! Found time during my study hall. Recently I've just been crashing after school, not doing much thinking or anything at all really. Any way, here's another chapter… I know, finally right?

* * *

**Reconnaissance: Part Two**

Eragon followed three blocks behind Gregorovich in his rented Zastava 10. A twenty-minute drive brought him to Stadion Crvena Zvezda, the home stadium of Red Star Belgrade. Eragon followed Gregorovich precisely forty-two seconds after he saw him enter the stadium.

Eragon had altered his appearance. Gregorovich was dangerous at the best of times, and with that contract against him, Eragon wasn't going to tag after Gregorovich in his normal guise. Eragon had altered his face so that it was more angular. He had also tinted his eyes to gray and colored his hair black as well as causing it to recede so that he had a very short hair cut.

The dark threatening sky matched Eragon's mood to the letter. His living hell was Alan Blunt's every day. Eragon was going to make Blunt pay, no question about it. It would be so easy to just kill Gregorovich, just one word and he would collapse on the ground. But no, this God damn continent had some sort of power over him. Try as he might, Eragon was unable to explain it. He supposed it could have something to do with the abundance of lay gates, but that was a bit of a stretch. Be that as it may, he was unable to directly affect both body and mind, save for his own. Any other magical means of killing Gregorovich would be to flamboyant, and Eragon knew that Blunt would have absolutely no hesitation to kill Arya as a punishment for Eragon. He would probably do it himself the sadistic son of a bitch. There was something about that man that just resonated with Eragon as pure, cold, evil.

Eragon threw open the doors to the administrative section of Stadion Crvena Zvezda and strode in as if he owned the place. He saw Gregorovich glance up from a copy of The Day of the Jackal, by Frederick Forsyth, before resuming his reading. Eragon walked over to Vladan Lukic's (president and principal owner of Red Star) assistant and planted his hands on her desk.

"I'd like to meet with Mr. Lukic." he said in flawless Serbian in a tone that both conveyed power and made clear he would brook no argument.

"Do you have an appointment?" asked Lukic's assistant, slightly taken aback by Eragon.

"No." replied Eragon curtly.

"I'll set you up with one then," she said as she started to hack away an her keyboard, "Name?"

"Dwight Jamison."

"Purpose of requested meeting?"

"I am interested in purchasing Red Star Belgrade."

Eragon knew that this would get him in; the club had been looking to change hands for over two years now. However Gregorovich's reaction was not one that Eragon expected.

"Excuse me," said Gregorovich, two long strides having brought him to Eragon's side, "But did I hear you expressing an interest in buying Red Star?"

"That I did," said Eragon, "Is there a problem with that?"

"None at all," responded Gregorovich, "You see I am also attempting to purchase Red Star. However the owners' refuse to sell the club to just one person. Perhaps we could work something out."

"Perhaps," said Eragon warily, "What did you have in mind?"

"Even ownership, we split the cost right down the middle."

"I will think about it," Eragon turned to exit Stadion Crvena Zvezda, "Good day, Mr. …?"

"Gregorovich. Here is my card. Drop by my house, say two o'clock, day after next? That is if you decide you are at all interested. We can discuss terms then."

Eragon nodded and proceeded to exit the stadium. He quickly drove back to the Hostel Fair. After he handed the Zastava 10 off to valet parking, he managed to alter his face so that it resumed its normal countenance.

Eragon was pleased with himself. Not only had he found out what Gregorovich was up to, but he had been handed a golden opportunity to scout out Gregorovich's house. All in all, a very satisfying day.

* * *

A/N: My thanks to **Lightdark-raveness, Blue-moon-silver-star, and Em Phantom **for taking enough of an interest as to encourage me to keep writing. My brain resembles the stereotypical attic of an eighty-year-old couple people! Filled with great ideas and cool stuff, but highly disorganized! Reviews keep me focused!


	7. The New Laid Plans of Dwarves and Men

A/N: My thanks to Em Phantom, this time because I used her idea of having Eragon meet an Alagaësian. I was up an hour past curfew to finish and publish this so you lot bloody well bother to review!

* * *

**The New Laid Plans of Dwarves and Men**

"OK so here's what we've got," said Eragon throwing his pen down, "Number one: Gregorovich is trying to purchase Red Star Belgrade."

"Number two;" said Bryce, "Gregorovich is in meetings with the owners of Red Star from ten in the morning to six in the afternoon with an hour break for lunch at the Kristal Restaurant."

"Three;" continued Eragon, "Due to my posing as a party interested in purchasing Red Star, and the current owners' reluctance to sell to a single individual, Gregorovich has invited me to a meeting tomorrow at two o'clock at his house."

"Four;" said Bryce, "The guard currently under Gregorovich's employment known as Pavle is a possibility to be turned due to unknown actions by Gregorovich against Pavle's daughter."

"Five;" said Eragon, "The guards change every three hours with four from six A.M. to six P.M., and eight from six P.M. to six A.M."

"OK so I'll meet Gregorovich tomorrow," said Eragon as he leaned back into his armchair and sipped a martini, "Meanwhile…"

"Alex, do you really think it's safe for you to walk into Gregorovich's house when he has a contract against you?" asked Bryce.

"Don't worry," said Eragon smirking, "My disguise techniques are far superior to anybody else's."

Bryce raised an eyebrow skeptically. He glanced at Eragon for a second, and then shrugged.

"If you say so Alex." replied Bryce.

Bryce took a swig from a bottle of water and propped his feet up on a nearby coffee table. He took a small metal ball out of his pocket and started to pass it back and forth between his hands. The ball appeared to be wrought of silver and iron. The intricate design portrayed a great city inside of a huge mountain with a rose shaped gem looking down on the city from the roof of the massive cavern housing the city. Odd runes adorned the ball and a small depression, about thumb sized, was located on top of the sphere.

Eragon looked at the ball, then back down at his notes. Suddenly his head snapped up as he did a double take. His eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth was drooping open and his martini glass shattered as his grip tightened in shock. Ignoring the multiple streamlets of blood letting from the numerous lacerations on his hand Eragon quickly leaned forward and as fast as an arrow, reached out and grabbed the ball in mid-flight from Bryce's left hand to his right.

"Hey!" cried Bryce leaning back to avoid Eragon's arm.

"Where did you get this?" asked Eragon in an awed whisper.

"It was in a plastic ball that Pavle was playing with as I walked away from the guards," said Bryce quickly, "He must have slipped it in my pocket somehow. The plastic came off easily and left this."

"Pavle…?"

Eragon stood up abruptly and strode into his room. He shut and locked the door connecting the two adjoining rooms, leaving a very confused Bryce in his wake.

* * *

Eragon set the ball down in front of him. There was no doubt about it. It was a Dwarven Kñlurtnën, a puzzle sphere, and, judging by the picture, this one was from Farthen Dûr. Originally designed as a young child's plaything, used for logic development, a slightly modified version had come to be more widely used as a way of safely transporting messages and small valuables. The child's plaything simply required you to match the pieces of the puzzle and complete the picture before the sphere split in two to reveal a sweet. The message ball required both an influx of energy and the correct phrase.

Eragon groaned. While the sphere was Dwarven made that ironically made his search for the correct phrase much harder. While Dwarven was obviously the primary language of the dwarves, extended contact with the Varden had made the common speech of Alagaësia wide spread among the dwarves, especially inside the mountain of Farthen Dûr. Then there was the ancient language. The phrase could also easily be in the tongue of magic seeing as magic was required to create the Kñlurtnën. This was not going to be an easy, or even enjoyable task, no matter how strong the connection to Alagaësia this object created for Eragon. Eragon set to work. He started slowly sending energy into the sphere. Not much, just enough though. The sphere needed very little, the need was intended to make sure that only someone with magical abilities was able to open the sphere. This was because magic users were so rare in the Dwarven race that all Dwarves showing any ability what so ever were immediately enlisted into the king's service.

"Knurla." said Eragon.

The sphere sat there, not responding, practically staring at him expectantly.

"Isidar Mithrim." tried Eragon again.

Silence.

"Nagra."

Nothing doing.

"Grimstnzborith."

Nope.

"Shrrg."

Nada.

"Gûntera."

Try again.

"Vargrimst."

Please hang up and dial again.

"Ingeitum."

No dice.

"Feldûnost."

Zippo.

"Jierda."

Nix.

"Shur'tugal."

Yawn.

"Thorta du ilumëo."

Pitching a perfect game here.

"Fell."

Running out of ways to say no here.

"Slytha."

That is… incorrect! Oh, I'm so sorry.

After about two hours Eragon had exhausted his vocabulary in common speech, the ancient language, and Dwarven. He was still no closer to opening the damned orb in front of him. Bryce had been wise enough to leave him alone. Eragon was angry now. He knew the orb had something very important in it, and he was absolutely determined to get into the orb and find whatever it was.

"Kveykva!" barked Eragon, sweat dripping down his anger-contorted face.

No response.

Eragon screamed in frustration, still channeling energy into the orb.

"Barzúl!" swore Eragon vehemently.

Suddenly… the orb popped open.

"You've got to be damn well kidding me!" yelled Eragon, "A curse of ill fate opens this orb?"

Eragon plucked a piece of parchment from the remains of the orb. It read as follows:

* * *

_ Greetings Eragon-finiarel, who is both Argetlam and Shur'tugal as well as Shadeslayer,_

_ My name on this continent you may have heard from your friend. My given name is Rorcolna. I am a member of Dúrgmist Feldúnost. I, like you I assume, came here to escape the horrible memories of the war. I however, came long before you. However I am no longer a dwarf physically. I was the most accomplished of Grimstnzborith Orik's spellcasters. I have molded myself in the semblance of a human._

_ Hwatum il skilfz gerdúmn. Fricai onr eka eddyr._

_ Gregorovich employed me before I knew of his evil ways; by then it was too late. I was trapped. My daughter tried to help me, but Gregorovich caught her. He made me watch as he slowly tortured, and then killed her. She was eight years old._

_ I will meet you at Suri Restaurant on the third day after this Kñlurtnën entered your friend's pocket._

_ Atra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon Shur'tugal._

_

* * *

_

Three days after Bryce received this? That would be day after tomorrow. One day after getting the lay of Gregorovich's house. Eragon smiled. Everything was starting to fall into place. He would get the overview of Gregorovich's house, and Pavle, pardon, _Rorcolna_, would get them in. Two days in Belgrade and a great start. Now, when was Eragon going to remember his hand was bleeding?

* * *

A/N: Props if you understood the ancient language and Dwarven bits.


	8. Second Contact

A/N: Yay! I finally got this typed up! And I wrote another story and a chapter of a sequel to A Desperate Charge! I guess I just needed a little Memento Mori (Flyleaf is an awesome band!) to properly motivate me. Anyways, here you go readers, that is if I have any left considering how long it has been since I updated this.

* * *

**Second Contact**

Eragon was waved through the gate silently by Nebojsa. Belgrade's overcast sky gave Gregorovich's house a dreary look. The barbed wire set atop the fence gave the property the feel of a prison camp, and of course the armed guards didn't help any. The four men stood impassively as Eragon entered the property.

However, the inside of the assassin's edifice was as different as night from day. Upon entering, Eragon found himself in a well lit hallway paved with a brightly colored fresco in the likeness of Russia. Small lamps hanging on the sides of the hall gave the narrow area a homely glow, ironic, since Eragon knew who lived here. The building should be anything but homely if it was to reflect the owner's ambitions and personality.

Nebojsa grunted and shoved Eragon forward, reminding him even more that this was indeed the home of an assassin, and not one of the infinite passages of Farthen Dúr. He allowed himself to be lead through the hallway and into what was evidently the sitting room. A couch, a coffee table, and two large blue armchairs adorned the room. Also three stained glass windows, one for each of the historical Russian flags and one more for the contemporary flag, were placed in various locations around the room. Eragon was shown through one of the three doors opposite him.

He stepped into a library and stopped still. Aside from the far wall, which was devoted to maps and atop a fireplace, the room was filled with books. The library was two stories high, and the sides of the large room were covered in shelves of books. Each was secured behind glass by small gold padlocks. Display cases sat in the middle of the room, holding what appeared to be original manuscripts of Tolstoy and Shakespeare.

"Mr. Gregorovich will be here shortly." said Nebojsa. He quickly turned on his heel and left abruptly.

Eragon, now left alone, decided to peruse these shelves of literary magic. Striding across the room, past a door he assumed led to Gregorovich's bedroom, as well as two more armchairs set beside the empty fireplace, he found a great variety of literature. Tolkien, to the aforementioned Tolstoy, L. Frank Baum to Francis Bacon, and Jules Verne to Abraham Verghese. Although the sheer volume and variation of the assassin's library absolutely astounded Eragon, he found himself time and time again brought back to the two original manuscripts in the center of the room, despite the surrounding works also of extreme rarity.

The original Russian of Tolstoy's manuscript for War and Peace was of little interest to Eragon. The spell that helped him speak any language did not extend so far as to enable him to read any language as well. However, Shakespeare's original Hamlet was a different matter altogether. A favorite of Eragon's, he took in the pages the display allowed him to view like a man dying of thirst to a glass of water. He quietly started to read the manuscript aloud.

"And therefore as a stranger give it welcome," he said, "There are more things in heaven and earth Horatio..."

"Then are dreamt of in your philosophy." cut in a voice.

Eragon turned quickly and saw Gregorovich.

"My apologies," said Gregorovich, "I did not mean to keep you waiting Mr. Jamison. However I had some... business to attend to, and the second party was most insistent that we conclude our transaction immediately."

Eragon heard a feminine giggle and looked up the stairs leading from the door Gregorovich had just entered the library from. There he saw a young women, she appeared to be in her mid twenties, wearing nothing but a towel. She winked at Eragon and continued to dry her hair with a second towel.

"Emma," said Gregorovich, as he inhaled sharply and slowly looked back over his shoulder.

The woman blinked her blue eyes attempting to give the illusion of innocence. Her badly hidden smirk gave her away.

"Go back upstairs." finished Gregorovich.

Emma smiled and walked back up the stairs, swaying her hips suggestively and laughing lightly. Just before she was out of Eragon's sight, she turned and blew him a kiss. Eragon blinked sharply as Gregorovich shut the door with his foot, cutting off Emma's laughter. Gregorovich's bedroom, for Eragon was now positive that that was where the door led, was evidently soundproof.

"Well Mr. Jamison," said Gregorovich as he let out a sigh, "Please take a seat."

Eragon sat down in one of the fireside armchairs. He was quite pleased with himself for keeping the smirk off of his face. Gregorovich sat down opposite him. Pouring himself a glass of wine from one of the many bottles atop a small folding table Eragon had not noticed before, the assassin's face took on the hardened expression it was so well known for. He turned to contemplate Eragon, and attempted to quickly gleam some tiny particle of information to level the playing field that Emma's sudden appearance had rent asunder. The silence would have been unsettling for some, but not for Eragon. He had played this game far too often in the politics of Alagaësia. The elves in particular seemed to favor the tactic.

"Can I offer you a drink?" asked Gregorovich, "I have some excellent cognac, a bottle of vodka just flown in from Moscow last night, or perhaps you are a wine connoisseur, hmm? I have here wines from Bordeaux, Milan, and a nice light one from New England. Or perhaps you would prefer some...?"

"Just water is fine Mr. Gregorovich." cut in Eragon.

Gregorovich's eyes narrowed, but he poured the drink and handed it to Eragon.

"Now before we enter into any agreement," started Gregorovich as he sipped his glass of wine, "I wish to ascertain that we are on the same page. What are your plans for Red Star?"

"Well I think that Petrovic must go," began Eragon, "We need to find a manager who believes in the tactic he is using, preferably a four-three-three. Also I think we should sign Slavko Perovic long term, while selling Boban Bajković and Bojan Djordjevic. We need to build a core of fit young players, particularly at midfield. Of course that means we'll probably have to do more international scouting to find players who'll fit in well and still have a high talent level, but I think we can handle that. What do you think?"

Gregorovich blinked slowly. He quickly recovered himself, and leisurely smirking said, "I think we shall get along very well Mr. Jamison."

After about an hour of further conversation Eragon and Gregorovich had agreed to split the cost of purchasing the team equally. They would be proposing their purchase to the current owners in two days, Gregorovich's last day of his stay in Belgrade. Eragon smirked as he walked through the entrance of Hostel Fair and changed his face back to it's original structure and coloring quickly before anyone noticed. Gregorovich would be dead by then if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

A/N: Well I'll try to keep writing. I'm feeling highly motivated right now, but I've kind of lost interest in this story. Anyway, very little will be coming after this weekend to any of my stories until Friday since finals start Monday.


	9. A Way In

_A/N: Short little set up chapter I wrote on the drive to Kansas City. THIS BRINGS THIS STORY TO 10,000+ WORDS! YAY! Action's coming up soon!_

**A Way In**

Bryce and Eragon walked into Suri Restaurant and looked around. A waiter greeted them, but quickly scurried off as Eragon glared at him. Bryce jabbed Eragon in the shoulder and pointed to a table in the corner. Rorcolna was sitting with his back against the wall, gazing at them expectantly. Eragon strode over quickly, with Bryce tight on his heels. As they neared Rorcolna stood up and bowed low.

"Greetings Argetlam," said Rorcolna, "I am very pleased you decided to meet with me."

"Cut the pleasantries," said Eragon as he gripped Rorcolna's shoulder and pushed him back into his seat, "We are not in Alagaesia anymore. Don't draw attention to yourself, or us."

Rorcolna muttered a hasty apology as Bryce and Eragon sat down on either side of him. In his current state, the dwarf was about five-foot-ten, had close cropped blond hair, and blue eyes on his sprinter's frame.

"Now tell us why we should trust you." said Bryce calmly as he folded his arms.

Rorcolna's eyes blazed with anger. He sat up bolt upright and glared at Bryce with such intensity as to make the bigger man recoil.

"Gregorovich killed my daughter," he said angrily, yet still managing to keep his voice down, "I was in financial difficulties and my daughter tried to help. She tried to break into Gregorovich's safe and get the money that way. Gregorovich caught her, and killed her. Her death was slow and torturous. One could hear her screams through the soundproofed room Gregorovich has his safe in. He killed my eight year-old daughter!"

"We have documented evidence of instances where Gregorovich has refused to kill children." said Bryce.

"He became so disgusted with himself a few days after he killed Nada," spat Rorcolna, "He swore off harming children the same day I swore I would kill that son of a bitch!"

"And so you are going to help us into his house so we can kill him?" asked Eragon, "How do you plan to do that?"

"My night shift is from midnight to six in the morning," said Rorcolna, "I'm usually the last one out, so it won't be anything unusual when I come out last again. This time though, I'll simply kill all of the guards in front of me. The scum are all loyal to Gregorovich anyway. After that's done I'll let you two in, then go back to my locker where I have the keys to the house and I'll let you in."

"Won't your gunfire bring more guards out?" asked Bryce.

"We all have silencers on our guns," responded Rorcolna sharply, "That's won't be a problem."

"And you'll just lead us through the house to Gregorovich?" asked Eragon.

"Yes."

"Tonight?"

"If you like."

"That sounds perfect," said Eragon smiling, "A toast gentlemen, to the downfall of Yassen Gregorovich."

Unbeknownst to the conspiring trio, a man who had just entered the restaurant stood up from his seat and left a rather confused waitress wondering what to do with his entrée as he walked quickly out of the establishment.


	10. Infiltration

A/N: Yay! 10th Chapter! Well... technically 9th with a prologue.

* * *

**Infiltration**

Eragon and Bryce were ready. The had so many more pockets in their suits, and in Eragon's case trench coat, that it was quite easy to fit their guns and all of the gadgets Smithers had given them onto their persons. As the rode the elevator down to the ground floor of Hostel Fair Bryce glanced at Eragon. He saw a man hardened by what he did not know, he saw cold determination and an unbending resolve to succeed, and he saw worry.

Bryce himself was rather a nervous wreck. He was sweating, and it was rather cool in Belgrade that night. Their target was not one to be taken lightly and Bryce knew it. One of his best friends in MI-5 was killed trying to eliminate Gregorovich, now it was his turn to try.

They exited Hostel Fair, and simply waited. Fifteen minutes Bryce and Eragon waited in the pouring rain of a nighttime Belgrade, then the clock struck twelve. The eight guards on duty went back into the house, and a minute later seven new ones came out, Rorcolna followed them shortly after. True to his word, the dwarf in human guise shot each of the seven men in the back, with nary a sound. He quickly waved Eragon and Bryce over.

The two MI-6 operatives quickly strode across the street and met Rorcolna at the gate. He was holding it open for them and handed them a key.

"Take this and go around the back," said Rorcolna, "There is a small wooden door at an angle to the house. It will lead you to the cellar. The cellar is where the guards are supposed to exit and enter, but the lot that just left went through a different door, the one that leads to the _wine cellar_. This key is the only one I am allowed access to."

"Thank you Rorcolna," said Eragon taking the key, "You will not be forgotten."

He held out his hand and he and Rorcolna shook hands firmly.

"Avenge my daughter Argetlam," said Rorcolna, "Make the bastard and his kind fear the name of Eragon Shadeslayer."

Bryce was rather confused. He had no idea why this man kept referring to Alex as 'Argetlam' and 'Shadeslayer', and back to the previous meeting with Rorcolna, where was Alagaësia anyway? Poor Bryce, if only he had read the recordings of the great sorcerer Christopher Paolini, all would have been known to him.

Eragon and Bryce headed to the door designated to them by Rorcolna, who remained at the gate. The key fit perfectly and Bryce and Eragon slipped silently into the cellar. The darkness was so dense that Eragon could not see his own hand if he put it in front of his face. What a time to neglect to bring a flashlight.

"Nángoröth rauthr!" seethed Eragon.

"Stop cursing in Norse or Celtic or whatever the hell it is and get out a flashlight!" hissed Bryce.

"Not Celtic, not Norse, Ancient Language." said Eragon.

"Oh and Celtic and Norse aren't ancient languages then?" asked Bryce in a subdued, yet still angry voice, "And where's the bloody flashlight?"  
"If you don't have one then we don't have one." replied Eragon.

"How are we going to get out of here without a light?" said Bryce, "We'll make too much noise."

"This is how," said Eragon as he stuck out his palm, "Ignasia garjzla."

Eragon's palm lit up with a green orb of light. Bryce gaped as Eragon walked towards the door leading to the kitchen, weaving through the numerous chairs and other obstacles that would have surely brought someone down to investigate. Eragon looked back at Bryce as if to say, '_Well, are you coming?'_ He quickly scrambled over to Eragon, who was now holding the Kindle device, which was now showing the cover of Tom Clancy's The Search for Red October; the cover quickly vanished and was replaced with an x-ray of the kitchen. There were three doors, including the one the duo were crouching by, and one person in the next room.

Eragon looked at Bryce who nodded quickly. Eragon opened the door quickly and stepped to the side as Bryce ran in and dived on top of… Emma? The young woman was about to scream, but Bryce quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her scream, but not silencing it.

"It is good to see that you do not always wear only a towel," said Eragon, "I think it is much more proper to be tackled when in jeans and a Red Star jersey, don't you?"

Emma glared at him her blue eyes a flame. Suddenly she bit down on Bryce's hand causing him to yelp as quietly as could be managed and release his hold. Emma got up and ran towards one of the doors.

"Blöthr." sighed Eragon, he was reluctant to use magic more than necessary, still, this was the only way to stop the young woman without making additional noise. Eragon was surprised, that shouldn't have worked on this continent. Perhaps he just needed to get acclimated to this place.

Eragon quickly noticed Emma was about to scream, and that he needed to use more magic.

"Maela." said Eragon.

The wide-eyed blonde was now silent and immobile. Eragon and Bryce walked over to her.

"How…?" asked Bryce.

"Magic." replied Eragon.

"I was expecting that answer."

"Read Paolini, you'll get it."

"I'm going to have to then."

"Quite," said Eragon, "Now, Emma is it? Do you know that your boyfriend, or whatever he may be, is an assassin wanted in over twenty different countries?"

Emma's eyes got even wider, if that was possible. Eragon quickly went over some of the more gruesome details of Gregorovich's assassinations, and Emma's eyes lost her fear of Eragon and Bryce, and gained a look of horror. When Eragon was sure she would not run to alert Gregorovich of his and Bryce's presence, he restored both movement and voice to her. The young woman promptly hurried to the sink and became physically sick. Her constitution was obviously not strong enough to deal with the affects of magic, while listening to stories of Gregorovich's… exploits.

"I've been sleeping with a murderer," she croaked when she had finished, "Oh my God, what am I going to do?"

Eragon remained impassive, but Bryce reached into his cot and handed Emma his hotel card.

"Go to Hostel Fair," he said, "Room 242."

Emma nodded slowly.

"What about you two?" she asked, "I doubt you came her to save me."

"No," said Eragon pulling out his baretta, "We came to kill Gregorovich. Now go."

Emma walked to the door leading to the cellar. She flicked the light switch for it on, and slowly turned around in the doorframe. Eragon was already rebooting the x-ray function on the kindle as he stood by the door on the left. Bryce however, Bryce was still looking at Emma.

"Be careful." he said, and then he turned back to Eragon.

Emma blinked, and left.

"Finally," said Eragon, "She stood there long enough didn't she?"

The x-ray showed a sitting room, not what they wanted, especially when it was populated with five people. He moved to the door on the right side of the kitchen.

"What did she do to piss you off?" asked Bryce, "She seemed like a sweet, confused, person, that's all. She was even worried about us, despite the fact that I tackled her and held her mouth shut, and you scared her half to death using magic on her."

"Just another thing we have to take care of though." said Eragon, "We've got enough on our plate as it is, and then you send her back to your room. I hope you know that I assume no responsibility for her."

"I didn't expect you to." said Bryce.

Eragon quickly took the soap from the breast pocket of Bryce's suit and squirted a good quantity into the keyhole, he had found the library. He then hastily inserted a screwdriver from one of the many pockets of his trench coat and stuck that into the soap. Then, as the solution hardened around the screwdriver, he sighed and looked up at Bryce.

"You fancy her don't you?" he asked.

"I, I, well…" stuttered Bryce.

"Never mind," said Eragon, "There's no one in the library here, and it's only one more door 'till we get to the man himself."

Eragon turned the screwdriver and the door unlocked. He strode in, followed closely by Bryce. Eragon stopped in front of the Hamlet manuscript. After a moment of internal debate, he pulled out the spray deodorant.

"This is no time to freshen up Alex," said Bryce, "Or whatever your name is, I don't know anymore. Anyways, have you forgotten what we're supposed to be doing?"

"Idiot!" snapped Eragon, "Have you forgotten what this does?"

He quickly sprayed the lock. After about ten seconds the few pieces left dropped to the ground. Eragon opened the display case and placed the manuscript in one of the larger pockets in his outfit.

He held his gun out quickly. He thought he had heard someone scream. When Bryce didn't say anything he shrugged it off. He proceeded to the door which, oddly enough, was open and exposing the stairs leading to Gregorovich's bedroom. Not daring to light up the stairwell Eragon and Bryce climbed up the stairs through the darkness. Eragon quickly burned off the lock to the bedroom and burst in, to find no one in the room, a quick search confirmed that the assassin was not in the room. Eragon quickly poured a bottle of water into a nearby bowl and murmured "Draumur kópa." as Bryce at the same time asked, "So where is he?"

Eragon looked at the doorway quickly. There, mirrored in the water before him, was Rorcolna, on his knees, his face bloodied, and his hands tied behind his back. Also, Emma had her hands in a similar position, blue eyes wide with fear, struggling to get the hand of Yassen Gregorovich untangled from her blonde hair.

"Welcome gentlemen," said Gregorovich smiling wickedly as a dozen guards entered the room, "To your planet hell."

* * *

A/N: Planet Hell is an awesome song by Nightwish, just had to use that, and 2**42**? Had to use the answer to life, the universe, and everything somewhere in here. Anyways, fighting starts next chapter. Also, you have to review to tell me, should I have Saphira fly in and save Eragon (or at least kill someone) or not? Also, what do you think I should do about Bryce and Emma? Everything? Nothing? Your opinion doesn't matter as much on the second topic, but it still does to a certain extent. So review and tell me what you'd like to see. Also, I'm curious as to what people think of Emma in general. I'm thinking there will be around 3 or 4 more chapters, getting close to the end, then I can start on one of my millions of other ideas!

P.S.: This is the longest author's note I've ever written.


	11. Confrontation

**Confrontation**

"Guns over here, now."

As Bryce and Eragon slid their guns over to the assassin, Gregorovich's grin reminded Eragon slightly of Gallbatorix's right before the tyrant king made to behead him. It was slightly... unsettling, to say the least. Nothing would stop Eragon this time though. Gregorovich would die by his hands, and he would return to Arya and his unborn child. Eragon took a sharp step forward, but was stopped at the sound of Gregorovich cocking the gun currently aimed at Emma's head. While Eragon wanted Gregorovich dead, he didn't want Emma or Rorcolna hurt.

"One step closer _Rider_," said Gregorovich as Rorcolna's eyes widened since he did not know Eragon's taken name, "And your friends will be in a great deal of pain."

Gregorovich removed Emma's gag, hoping to elicit some sort of reaction from the woman that would cause the two men that had entered his house to surrender. It would be so much easier to kill them when they submitted. He really was not in the mood for a legitimate battle right now.

Eragon snorted at Gregorovich's threat, he had heard it all before. However his scorn did not go unnoticed by Gregorovich. The assassin's eyes narrowed quickly.

"You think I'm joking?" asked Gregorovich.

He quickly changed his aim, and pulled the trigger. Emma screamed as Rorcolna's blood spattered on her face and dyed her hair crimson. The dwarf fell face first on the floor, a hole in his still human head, as Eragon and Bryce watched his life ebb away with wide eyes.

"It was fortuitous that one of my loyal guards walked in on this little conspiracy." said Gregorovich, "Well," he kicked Rorcolna's body away from him, "Maybe not so much for you."

"You sick bastard!" yelled Bryce, letting his emotions get the best of him, "There was no call for that!"

"You doubted my authority of the moment," snarled Gregorovich, "I don't appreciate that."

Eragon was closely monitoring the conversation as he reached a hand into his pocket. As he clamped his fist around the cell phone Smithers had given him what seemed so long ago, he reached out to Bryce with his mind.

_"Bryce this is Alex."_

"What the...?" asked Bryce out loud interrupting Gregorovich who blinked in the most expressive look of surprise possible for the Russian.

_"Magic, as you would understand it." _thought Eragon at Bryce, _"Speak with your mind, not your mouth."_

_ "Well this is interesting," _thought Bryce, _"Not everyday that..."_

_ "Just... just shut up okay?" _pleaded Eragon, _"On the count of three I'm going to throw my phone for the smokescreen. At the same time you'll get Emma out of here, got it?"_

_ "What about you?"_

_ "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine, now... ready?"_

_ "As ready as I'll ever be."_

_ "Good. On the count of three... One..."_

Bryce looked at Emma, her eyes were wide with fear and she was staring at him, almost hopefully.

_"...Two..."_

Eragon brought his fist slowly out of his black trenchcoat as he stared at the body of Rorcolna the time to act had come.

_"Three!"_

Eragon threw the phone against one of the guards. As the phone exploded cloaking the room in a black fog Bryce ran forward and picked Emma up. He ran straight into Gregorovich. He quickly changed directions and headed towards the window. One of the guards had opened the window in an attempt to dispel the smoke.

What Bryce knew was a two story drop faced him and Emma, one that neither of them was looking forward to, but heading for the door was no longer an option.

_"Just jump!" _yelled Eragon mentally.

_"Are you crazy?" _Bryce shouted back.

_"Trust me."_

Bryce looked at the ground again, the light sparkle from the moon off of the metallic tiles, and jumped. Wait, there weren't any tiles there earlier. Bryce felt his legs land on... leather?

_"Welcome aboard," _said Saphira, _"I am Saphira, Eragon's dragon, hold tight."_

Saphira suddenly launched herself into the air. Shortly after gunfire split the night as one of the guards shot his two of his comrades under the control of Eragon, before being dispatched himself. Saphira roared and swooped down upon the house and wrenched the roof off. Two of the remaining guards ran in fear as Saphira's flame licked the house. Although it did not catch fire, the house did raise considerably in temperature.

"Du Súndavar Freohr!" shouted Eragon.

Shadows lept out from various places and dragged the guard closest to Eragon kicking and screaming back into them. Another guard rushed at Eragon and tripped over him as he ducked. Eragon quickly turned and shot him in the head.

"Blöthr hjarta!"

Another guard fell as his heart ceased to function while his comrade was blinded by the corrosive compound in the spray deodorant Eragon had once again taken out. Eragon quickly threw him out the window.

_"Five to go," _thought Eragon, _"Shouldn't take too long."_

While the remaining guards and Gregorovich couldn't find him in the slowly clearing smoke, Eragon took out the Kindle. He opened up The Two Towers and set the timer to five minutes before sliding the device under Gregorovich's bed. He reached out and found the five remaining guards

**4:45**

He ran forward and pulled a switch knife out of his coat. He quickly slit the throats of two guard huddling together in a corner. Three to go.

**4:00**

He found the next one and was forced to duck as bullets rained over him.

"Brisingr!" he yelled and the guard's gun melted shortly before the guard himself did. Two guards left.

**2:42**

"Blödh vindr!" yelled Eragon at the next guard.

Blood slowly pored out of the man and coalesced in the air. The man shriveled as he was dried and a solid mass of his blood fell on top of his corpse and stuck like gelatin.

**1:30**

The next guard was soon to follow as he backed into Eragon, who quickly took advantage of the situation and stabbed the man in the heart.

**1:15**

Eragon walked to the window, making sure that Gregorovich was still in the room.

"Gath un reisa du rakr." he said. The smoke cleared, revealing Gregorovich standing in the corner.

**0:45**

"Well Rider," said Gregorovich after quickly recovering himself, "It would seem it is just you and I now."

"Not quite." replied Eragon.

Gregorovich smirked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's just you." said Eragon, and he jumped out the window.

**0:15**

Saphira swooped down and caught him. Eragon landed just in front of Bryce, who was pale as a ghost. Although this may have been partially caused by how tight Emma was holding onto him.

**0:10**

Gregorovich ran to the window and watched as the dragon and three people hovered about 300 meters above the house, and about 400 meters away from it.

**0:07**

Eragon quickly established a link with Gregorovich.

**0:05**

Gregorovich shook his head as he viewed all of the blood around him. This was going to be one heck of a cleanup bill.

**0:04**

Eragon smirked at Gregorovich, even as Bryce berated him for not killing Gregorovich.

**0:03**

If Gregorovich hadn't left his room by now, he wouldn't ever.

**0:02**

Gregorovich was now digging under his bed, he had placed a brand new sniper rifle there not even last week.

**0:01**

"I don't remember owning a Kindle," muttered Gregorovich, "I wonder..."

**0:00**

The device exploded taking the room and Gregorovich with it. The structural integrity of the house had been compromised as well, and the second floor came crashing down on the first. The newspapers would later attribute it to a gas leak, but they were unable to explain the radiation emitting from the remains of what appeared to be an electronic reading device.

"Come on Saphira," said Eragon wearily, "Let's go back to England. I want to see Arya again."

Saphira growled in approval, and took off into the night.


End file.
